


Secrets, Lies And The Glaringly Obvious

by suggsygirl



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Abduction, Anal Sex, M/M, Rape, Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suggsygirl/pseuds/suggsygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kidnapping reveals secrets that should have remained hidden...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A thank you to rhosyndu for the beta. This story contains a sexual assault. Please do not read if you think you are likely to be upset by it.

Sam exhaled sharply, his breath warming the cloth directly beneath his face, making it hot and clammy; sticky against his skin. 

He wondered how it had come to this? What kind of path had his mind taken to have him face down underneath his superior officer, his very _male_ superior officer? If he was in a coma then he feared for his sanity and if he wasn't? Well, he still feared for his sanity because as far as he could remember he wasn’t gay and it's not that he's just been deep in denial like a certain gruff neanderthal not too far away from him now, he can honestly say he had never even considered the possibility. He'd like to think that perhaps he'd have better taste than Gene but reality contradicts that notion.

Gene grunted in his ear. The combination of the vibration and the heat from the larger man's breath sent a shiver down Sam's spine and he was reminded that yes, he was having sex with his boss and yes, he was definitely a willing participant.

The bedding scratched at his face as Gene thrust into him, adding to the fire already burning from the moment he had touched him, wrapping a large hand around the back of his neck and pulling him close. Sam had been startled to say the least; although he'd made plenty of wisecracks about Gene's apparent obsession with male bonding, he’d never considered the possibility that his DCI was gay. Maybe he just had no gaydar. Sam's pride bridled at the idea that he could have such a glaring gap in his perceptive abilities but then he hadn't spotted that particular feature of his own character, so he supposed the chances of him spotting it in Gene had been slim to none: he didn't have to be happy about it though.

"I can hear you thinking, give it a rest, yer puttin' me off me stroke," Gene complained, stilling until Sam whimpered involuntarily.

"My brain is trying to catch up with current events. I don't do this every day you know," Sam said accusingly, although why he was accusing Gene of anything he had no idea.

Sam shifted his position and Gene harrumphed in frustration, grabbing the back of his DC's neck and attempting to hold him still.

"Yer the only bloke I know who uses his brain when he's 'avin' sex," Gene grumbled, shifting his weight and grunting as one of his joints emitted a pop.

Stretching his arms above his head languidly, Sam sighed deeply as Gene licked a path across his shoulder ending in a nip to his neck that induced a groan.

In amongst the pleasure coursing through Sam's body at Gene's myriad of touches, a nagging voice questioned the older man's history. Had he done this with other men? Other officers? Ray? Sam shuddered in horror at the unexpected thought; he didn't think Ray was gay, but then Sam was under no illusions as to the accuracy of his opinions on that particular subject.

"And how many men have you done this with?" Sam questioned, attempting nonchalance as Gene groaned theatrically.

"Oh god Gladys, please tell me we're not 'avin' this conversation." Pausing briefly, Gene stroked a hand down Sam's sweaty flank, unable to disguise the frustration at being interrupted. "Yer the only one for me, I've never even looked at anyone else, I'm gonna marry you and we'll run away together and 'ave a million rugrats..."

"There's no need to be sarcastic," Sam interrupted huffily.

"With you Sammy-boy, there's every need." Gene's voice was weary and he sighed, "Are we doing this or not because there's a pint in the pub wi' my name on it."

Sam didn't know why he had to question every little thing, admittedly it was a useful quality in the police force but sometimes he cringed at his own inability to just let things go. 

"Sam?" Gene said, concern etched in his voice and Sam realised he'd been silent and still for longer than he'd intended.

"I, I this is so unprofessional," Sam stammered, grasping for a reason to stop this even as his own mind was laughing at him, taunting that it was possibly a bit too late to be citing professionalism as a reason for not _continuing_ to have his boss shag him.

Laughing loudly, Gene managed to utter between guffaws, "That ship has definitely sailed Samantha," and started to pull out of Sam's body, still hard as steel which was a feat Sam was extremely impressed by given the amount of alcohol Gene had imbibed, not to mention the probable state of his veins and arteries. 

"No!" Sam exclaimed louder than he had intended at the older man's withdrawal, causing Gene to pause in surprise.

"Make yer mind up Gladys. Legendary though my prowess in the bedroom is, I can't keep it up all bloody day."

Sam took a deep breath, feeling the humid air fill his lungs, making him dizzy and adding to the surreal atmosphere. He breathed out the word 'please' and shuddered as Gene slowly pushed himself back into his prostrate body, plastering himself to the younger man's back and placing a gentle kiss behind his ear.

Groaning as Gene started to thrust, Sam tried not to writhe wantonly, a part of his brain thinking about the epic level of Gene's smugness in the morning. How on earth did Gene manage to make this feel so good? Maybe it was Gene, or maybe it just felt like this for everyone. Sam didn't know but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep himself quiet and dignified - his brain couldn't help but have a giggle at that last thought. 

His cock felt raw from the friction of the bedclothes. Sam knew there was no way his bed would hold the weight of two grown men, so Sam was bent over it, his face pressed into the covers as Gene knelt on the floor behind him. The complaining the older man had engaged in as soon as his knees hit the floor had stopped immediately he'd pushed his way into Sam's welcoming heat.

As if Gene could read his mind, he reached around and curled his fingers around Sam's erection, warm palm protecting the delicate skin of Sam's cock from the scratchy linen. Sam moaned deep and loud and found that he didn't care about Gene's ego anymore, not when this felt so good, when Sam felt like he was soaring, the only thing holding him down being the delicious weight of Gene behind him. 

The sure movement of Gene's hand on Sam's cock made stars burst behind his closed eyelids, he felt the room spin and for a terrifying moment thought he might pass out from the sheer pleasure that Gene's hand managed to induce in him. It was only the potential embarrassment that kept him from screaming and praising God as his DCI stroked him expertly. 

Gene had certainly done this before and Sam felt a stab of jealousy mixed in with the pleasure. He scolded himself inwardly for being so ridiculous and even in the throes of ecstasy still being unable to just let go. Sam bit his lip and tried to switch off his brain, Gene unknowingly helping the process by whispering dirty promises in Sam's ear, increasing the speed of his hand and his thrusts.

Sam felt a wave of orgasm crash through him suddenly and groaned loudly, spilling his come over Gene's blunt fingers and succumbing to the blinding flash of light that seemed to fill his head; his ears rang and he stilled, drifting on the warm afterglow in absolute numbed bliss.

Never in his wildest dreams had Sam imagined - and contrary to what people thought, he had both some luridly filthy dreams and a dirty imagination - that he would be orgasming, crushed under his male boss' substantial weight, and that he would come so hard he couldn't even think for several minutes afterwards, but then, Sam had begun to realise that his imagination was extremely capable of surprising him and he should never underestimate it. 

Coming back to himself, Sam turned to look at Gene, not entirely sure what to expect - Gene's moods were unpredictable at the best of times - and found himself facing a level of smugness that if it were a hurricane would be a category five; devastating and all-consuming.

"I knew you were hankerin' after a bit of the ol' Gene Genie," 

"I've never done that before, I don't know what came over me," Sam murmured almost to himself realising too late the smutty implications of his words. Sam silenced Gene's impending joke with a raised hand. "And I was not hankering after you," Sam added indignantly, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

Gene raised his eyebrows in a silent 'whatever' and padded naked over to his jacket, which had been hastily flung into the kitchen in the heat of passion. He fished his cigarettes and lighter out of the pocket, sparking up and walking back to the bed completely unselfconsciously. Sam could see that Gene was well aware he was being watched: despite being naked or maybe even because of it, Gene had his usual swagger firmly in place as he sauntered back to the bed, settling his weight carefully as Sam tried to clear up the clothes littering the floor.

A sound suddenly pierced the silence, making Sam jump. Gene reached down to the floor and checked his watch - which Sam was surprised to note, he'd taken off at some point - and looked puzzled as he registered the time.

Sam reached for the phone with trepidation, wondering who would call him at this hour, glancing at Gene as he picked up the receiver and answered, "Tyler."

"Tyler, it's Ray... DS Carling..."

"Ray?" Sam couldn't have been more shocked if the Pope had called.

"...I, I'm looking for the Guv," Ray exhaled loudly, his words hesitant and tremulous, "is he there?"

A spike of pure fear shot through Sam and he wondered what he should do. Ray sounded scared in a way Sam hadn't heard since the explosion that could have killed the gruff DS but admitting that Gene was with Sam so early in the morning would be a damning piece of evidence it would be hard to provide an alternative explanation for. 

Sam was saved from having to make the decision as the phone was snatched out of his hand.

"Ray, if this isn't bloody good, I'm gonna ram my foot so far up yer arse..." Gene trailed off as Ray presumably interrupted, instantly letting Sam know that it was definitely something important.

Gene asked questions in a clipped, business-like tone and Sam was growing increasingly worried both by Gene's voice and by his apparent lack of concern that Ray had phoned Sam's flat to find the DCI.

Putting down the phone, Gene immediately started to get dressed, throwing his clothes on with a speed that both impressed and further worried Sam.

"Come on, we're goin' to Ray's," Gene ordered, waiting impatiently while Sam threw on his own clothes with significantly less speed than Gene had done.

"What's going on? Why did Ray phone here and why are you so unconcerned that the whole station is gonna know you spent the night?" Sam said as he locked the door and followed Gene to the Cortina.

Gene, despite the tension radiating from him in waves managed to roll his eyes at the younger man. "As far as anyone's concerned, I passed out on yer crappy armchair and even if they thought different no one would dare say it. As for Ray - our shaggin' status is the least of 'is problems."

Sam had never liked Ray and as much as everybody thought that the feeling stemmed from Ray's hatred of Sam for getting the job he thought was his, the truth was that the feeling had been mutual almost instantly. Sam thought the DS was bullish, idiotic and worst of all lazy, everything he hated in a cop. The only chink of light had been in the aftermath of the bombing when Sam had seen a vulnerability that made Ray seem almost human, even likeable. He'd felt sorry for the detective and worried that he might have PTSD but that didn't last long and soon Ray was back to his old self, possibly even worse than before and they had quickly gone back to their mutual dislike.

Driving like even more of a lunatic than usual, Gene screeched through the streets of Manchester, the lack of other traffic on the roads not tempering the DCI's speed in the slightest as they careered round bends on two wheels. Pulling up outside a nondescript terraced house, Gene got out of the car, leaving a startled Sam sitting there as he walked into what was obviously Ray's house like he owned the place. Sam scrabbled with his seatbelt and followed, closing the door behind him and walking into a sitting room where a visibly upset Ray paced like a caged lion.

"Sit down Ray," Gene ordered, tone cutting through Ray's obvious distress to compel him to obey even as his entire body seemed to thrum with malevolent energy. "Now, tell me again what 'appened."

Ray shot a glare in Sam's direction, looking back at Gene and raising an eyebrow, silently questioning the DI's presence before his shoulders slumped and he sighed deeply.

"Chris were supposed to come round 'ere for dinner."

Sam's mouth formed a surprised 'o', he hadn't been aware that Ray and Chris socialised at all outside the pub much less did something so civilised as have dinner together. 

"Well 'e didn't show up and it's really not like 'im, I waited for a while and then I called 'is mum only she said he'd gone on a date." Ray paused and scrubbed a hand through his hair, a look of pure misery on his features. "I thought maybe he 'ad gone on a date."

Sam to his utter surprise could see the pain in Ray's face as he said those last words, he realised then that his gaydar truly was non-existent; Ray and Chris were an item and from the strength of feeling radiating from the DS, they had been for quite some time. 

"But then someone pushed this through my door." Ray indicated a scrumpled up piece of paper resting on the coffee table. "I read it and knew something 'ad 'appened to 'im."

Ray looked like he was fighting tears as Sam reached over to the paper, gripping it carefully by the edges, he opened it up and read the venomous words.

_'Bum bandits have no place in the Police force, perverts can't be trusted to uphold the law; five thousand pounds or there'll be one less queer to worry about. You've one day.'_

Sam passed the note carefully to Gene who read it slowly, face slowly turning puce with rage as the words sank in.

"No-one messes with my team," Gene muttered darkly causing a shiver to shoot up Sam's spine. "This could be a hoax, it could be any ol' nutter and Chris will walk into work oblivious with a dopey grin on 'is gormless face."

Shaking his head, Ray sucked in an unsteady breath then handed over a belt, his hands clearly trembling as he dropped it into Gene's lap.

"This is Chris', it came with the note." 

Gene didn't bother to come up with an alternatively plausible theory to Chris' whereabouts, he stood and paced in front of the fireplace while Ray and Sam watched, eyes following his every movement searching for some kind of guidance. Sam was well aware of the delicate implications and was afraid that Gene's 'bull-in-a-china-shop' approach to policing would lead to a public relations nightmare at the very best; the worst Sam didn't want to think about.

"Right, let's find this reprobate and kick some tolerance into 'im, meanwhile the note doesn't exist, the exact nature of DS Carling and DC Skelton's relationship is not discussed and we tell Chris' mum and dad nothin' we don't 'ave to." Gene turned to Sam, eyes blazing with righteous indignation. "Gladys, yer in charge of gay-boy science. I've no doubt yer anally retentive, annoyin' attention to detail will 'elp. Ray, you stay 'ere in case he gets in contact again."

Opening his mouth to argue, Ray was halted by Gene's raised palm, closing his mouth and slumping into the nearest chair as Sam and Gene made to leave.

"Ray, I don't like people in my team sneakin' about behind my back, when this is over we're 'avin' words."

The hypocrisy of the Guv's words stung Sam as he followed Gene out and into the car.

Once they were safely ensconced in the Cortina, Gene leant forward and rested his head against the steering wheel as silence descended. Sam waited what he considered to be a polite amount of time before questioning the Guv, he was still hunched over, the only sign that he was even alive were the regular, deep breaths expanding his chest.

"Guv?"

Gene didn't move from his position.

"What?" he replied, the sound muffled by the steering wheel.

"Are you okay?" Sam murmured hesitantly, placing his hand tentatively on the older man's shoulder and squeezing.

"Just 'cause we made the beast wi' two backs DI Tyler, that doesn't mean you can go all Dorothy on me in public, now remove yer 'and before I do it for you," Gene said without malice as Sam moved his hand as though he'd been burned. "Now, any idea's on how we 'andle this disaster?"

Sam took a deep breath to clear his head and started thinking out loud, "Well, it has to be someone who has been watching Ray and Chris, they know that one or both of them are police officers and they know or suspect that they are having a relationship. Given the fact that we didn't know that, I'd say that they have been watching for quite some time. I think we should question Ray's neighbours, delicately of course," Sam shot Gene a look that spoke volumes on the DI's feelings on Gene's ability to do that. "See if any of them have seen anyone hanging around, any cars that don't belong to anyone living round here. I think it's probably more than one person, Chris is a bit naive but he's young and strong and this person would have had to incapacitate him - it's possible one person could do it with an unexpected blow to the head, but they'll want to keep him alive to get the ransom." Sam took a deep breath, trying not to allow his mind to wander on the subject.

Gene looked deep in thought. Sam considered that this was possibly not a very good sign, the Guv didn't sit and think, he acted in a decisive and normally completely wrong manner, leaving no stone unturned as he barged headlong into the investigation. Sam didn't know what to do when Gene was thinking, he just sat and stared with - even he would admit - a vacant expression on his face. Having apparently finished his train of thought, Gene turned to Sam and clicked his fingers in front of his DI's face.

"Anyone 'ome? I know I'm a bloody good shag but there's work to do, as much as the little div gets right on my wick most of the time, I wouldn't want... Well let's just get 'im back." 

Arriving at the station, Gene and Sam walked purposefully into CID not even pausing as they both made their way straight for Gene's office. It was early and they were the only people in, cleaners bustled around with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, the ash dangling precariously as they emptied ashtrays that would be full again in a few hours.

"What do we tell the others? I mean how much do you want to tell them? We do need all the help we can get." Sam's voice wavered slightly on the word help and he cursed himself, he was supposed to be a professional police officer so why was he finding it so hard to pull himself together in Gene's presence?

Gene opened his desk drawer and fished out a half empty - or half full depending on your point of view - bottle of whiskey, unscrewing the top and preparing to take a drink until Sam's hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks.

"You need a clear head."

For a moment Gene looked as though he was going to resist, was going to give Sam a piece of his mind and probably a fair amount of physical violence but then he sighed and screwed the top back on, replacing the bottle in the drawer it came from.

"You're worse than the wife, at least she 'as the good sense to ignore me most of the time."

Glancing up at Sam, the younger man could see the flash of hurt in his superior officer’s eyes before the shutters came back down and it was business as usual; deny often enough and it stopped being true.

"No one else is to know what we know understand? You may be all touchy feely and girly but normal people aren't, it would ruin 'is career. As far as anyone else is concerned Chris 'as been kidnapped and we don't know why. So we better bloody find 'im before people start askin' too many questions about why Ray is even more of a wreck than usual." Gene barked the words but Sam wasn't fooled by the bluff exterior, Gene was worried and Sam didn't blame him, this whole mess was a house of cards just waiting for a breeze.

Gradually other members of CID started filtering into the office. Sam didn't get so much of a flicker of attention as he sat hunched over his desk, the others were well used to his punctuality and efficiency - although Sam had heard it referred to as him, 'avin' no life, the prissy nancy boy,' on more than one occasion. The fact that Gene was not only in his office but was also awake caused more of a stir, people filtered carefully past, trying not to provoke the Guv's wrath as if the DCI ever needed a reason to give someone a bollocking.

Gene emerged from his office and shouted the room to silence, delivering an abridged version of what had happened, and barking orders at everybody until they scattered like cockroaches, each to their own dark corner. 

Grabbing Sam none too gently by the arm, he practically dragged him out of the building and into the car, barely pausing for Sam to close the door before he was screeching down the road.

"Where are we going?" Sam screamed over the noise of the tyres.

"Ray's. We're gonna stop 'im doin' somethin' stupid."

Sam's brow crinkled and he looked confused.

"Why would he do something stupid?" Sam asked, bafflement etched into his voice as well as his face.

"Because it's Chris." Gene replied like his answer made perfect sense.

They pulled up outside Ray's as the detective was leaving the house, coat buttoned up haphazardly and tie looking like it had been fastened by a blind man. His whole demeanour was one of quietly simmering rage and Sam shivered involuntarily.

He barely slowed when Gene grabbed his arm and didn't blink when the Guv punched him in the face, just clutched his jaw and kept on going; it took both Sam and Gene and the whispered threats of a further scene to get Ray to go back inside and even then he was like a volcano waiting to erupt. He paced the living room, anger poring from every movement.

"Calm down Ray," Gene shouted, grabbing the DS and planting him forcibly in the nearest chair.

"Would you be calm if it were Tyler?" Ray growled, looking back and forth between the two men as they grasped his meaning.

Sam realised he had clearly underestimated the man in front of him.

Gene's mouth opened and closed but he seemed to be struggling to articulate whatever it was that was in his head: something that Sam couldn't remember ever seeing before. After what seemed like an eternity of gaping like a fish, Gene spluttered, "Yer upset, so I'll ignore that last remark but if I 'ear you so much as breathe any of that crap again, I'll 'ave yer badge DS Carling."

Watching the two men having a silent conversation, their eyes locked together in a battle of wills, Sam felt a spiral of shame wind its way through his insides, uncurling slowly and permeating every fibre of his being. Gene would protect his dirty little secret with everything he had and there was nothing Sam could do about it; he was disturbed by how much that affected him.

"Can you behave or do I 'ave to leave Sammy-boy 'ere to babysit you?" Gene said, a hint of menace underneath the gravelly tones.

Ray nodded tightly and turned away in dismissal as Gene and Sam walked to the door, the atmosphere between the three men awkward and strained. All of them were well aware that Ray was incapable of just waiting for something to happen to Chris, he was going to do everything he could to try and help his lover and it was only a matter of time before he would hurt someone. Sam wondered if Gene _would_ react the same way as Ray if it had been Sam that had been kidnapped. He was startled to realise that he hoped so.

"Right we start by questioning the neighbours, I'll do the talking," Sam said briskly, walking towards the nearest front door and knocking loudly.

A few houses later and they knew more than they'd ever wanted to about Ray Carling: what he listened to, when he went out, and who visited. There was plenty of speculation about the frequency of a certain young police officer’s visits but nobody was willing to put a name to it. Sam wondered whether his own neighbours would say the same things about Gene's nocturnal appearances at his flat, wondered whether the truth even crossed their minds.

There was one lead amidst the conjecture, a car had been spotted parked over the road; one neighbour had thought it belonged to another and vice versa, one particularly nosy neighbour had remembered the number plate and they had traced it to a nearby street.

Standing outside the ordinary terrace, Gene and Sam breathed deeply before knocking sharply. After a brief pause the door was yanked open, a large man entirely filled the space, sneering down and without having to ask any questions they knew they had their man. Forcing their way into the house, Sam could hear muffled grunts coming from upstairs. Gene had the suspect on the floor, rage making him incredibly strong as he pushed the man's arm up behind his back. Running up the stairs, Sam focused on the noise, tracing it to a door that looked like it led to a storage cupboard. Yanking the door open, he was shocked to find a small room, dark and bare, Chris was lying on his side, gagged and blindfolded, his hands tied behind his back. 

"Guv," Sam shouted, his eyes fixed on the scared man in front of him, his mind whirling with a mixture of procedure and emotion.

Hearing Gene's heavy footsteps on the stairs compelled him to action and he stepped forward, crouching over Chris' form and removing the gag, then attempting to untie his wrists, fingers trembling as he struggled with the knots.

"It's okay Chris, it's over," Sam crooned, voice soft; his patented 'talking to victims' voice.

"Is Ray alright?" Chris blurted, eyes searching Sam's face.

"Ray's fine," Gene answered over Sam's shoulder.

They marched their suspect into the station, Chris tagging along like a dinghy in their wake as the cuffed man protested his innocence loudly, making accusations about Ray and Chris to whoever would listen as he was dragged roughly into a cell. 

The door was slammed with some force and the noise ricocheted loudly around the concrete walls, the sound a discordant clang in Sam's head. 

Sam knew they had their man, not even Gene could mess up the questioning of this suspect. It was rare to catch someone so red-handed in their perpetration of a crime and yet something felt wrong, it was too easy; the evidence had fallen into place too neatly, the clue which led them directly to the door of the suspect was too easy to obtain, and who kept a kidnap victim in their own house? Little questions started to nag at Sam, tugging at his mind and making him feel uneasy, like he'd forgotten something, a vital piece of the puzzle that was just out of reach.

"I want to see Ray," Chris said as soon as the cell door closed, muffling the suspect’s shouts.

Sam and Gene looked at each other as Chris resolutely stared at the floor, the young detective clearly unsure as to how much his two superior officers knew about his relationship with Ray. Knowing that Ray would undoubtedly come barrelling down to the station at any moment, Sam thought the safest option was to take Chris to him, minimise the scene that Ray would cause. The suspect’s accusations were bad enough, the other officers didn't need to have the added ammunition of whatever Ray would do when he saw Chris to fuel the fire of gossip that was already sweeping round the office.

They drove Chris to Ray's house, silence filling the car as nobody knew what to say in such unusual circumstances. Sam's mind was a whirl of contradictory thoughts and emotions. On the one hand, knowing that Chris was safe gave him a huge sense of relief: he hadn’t realised how much he genuinely liked his young colleague. On the other, the swirling emotions and the hypocrisy that he was encountering made him queasy. 

In 2006 Sam had tried very hard to damp down his emotions, especially at work; he'd prided himself on being cool and calm in any situation, never letting his personal thoughts and feelings get in the way of his analytical appraisal of the crime. Now though, he found that control slipping, found himself unable to conceal his emotions, his visceral reaction to Gene's presence bubbled barely under the surface and Sam hated the way it made him feel.

Sam and Gene walked into Ray's house, a nod of Gene's head indicating Chris' presence behind them. The seconds that passed seemed to stretch on for eternity until Ray's unexpected reaction broke the tension, like a rainstorm cutting through humidity. The big man crumpled suddenly, his shoulders shaking with relief as his knees hit the cheap, unfashionable carpet. Chris stepped forward and placed a hand on Ray's shoulder, looking back at Sam and Gene with a pleading expression that Sam took as a request to leave. Grabbing Gene's arm, Sam tugged the big man out of the room, leaving the couple to their reunion.

Walking back to the car, Sam waited until they were seated before he spoke. "Did you know about Chris and Ray?"

Gene looked thoughtful for a moment and Sam was surprised that he was actually considering the question before answering: maybe there was some chance of getting the truth.

"I knew Ray 'ad a thing for the gormless div, I assumed Chris 'ad better taste though." Gene suddenly looked over at Sam, putting on his driving gloves and caressing the steering wheel. "Why do you care what I know Gladys? Come on, I can tell when there's summat rattlin' around in that 'ead of yours."

Sam bit his bottom lip. He wasn't accustomed to feeling so raw and open, he wanted to get out of the car into the fresh air but felt pinned to his seat. Leaving would be a clear sign of weakness and whatever Sam was, he wasn't a coward.

"Did you and Ray ever..?" Sam left the sentence dangling, knowing that his meaning was clear.

"Let me make summat clear to you, my life before you is none o' yer business. I'm not yer 'usband and I won't 'ave you actin' the jealous tart every time I look at a nice arse, is that clear DI Tyler?" 

Sam blinked in surprise, suddenly fighting tears to his utter dismay and embarrassment. Nodding tightly, he managed to mutter, "Crystal."

Gene started the car and peeled away from the curb in his customarily aggressive fashion, leaving a trail of rubber in his wake. They reached the station after another hair raising ride that had probably taken years off Sam's life, walking side by side into the building to question the suspect as Sam's insides churned. The conversation in the car had shaken him up and it disturbed him, the entire situation was insane, surreal and overwhelmingly bizarre, he shouldn't care what Gene's feeling were, he shouldn't care whether he even had any - yet he did, more than he thought possible and it was driving him crazy. 

Hours had been spent questioning the suspect - whose name they had found out was Richard Campbell but not much else - when Ray appeared at the door. Sam was out of his seat in seconds, he grabbed the red-faced DS and tried to hold on to him as he struggled to get free, to hurt the man who had kidnapped Chris. Campbell just sat back and smiled smugly until Sam was sorely tempted to let Ray go and watch him vent his frustrations on the grinning suspect. 

"I'll kill him, let me go!" Ray screamed at the top of his lungs, grunting with the effort as he continued to grapple with Sam.

"DS Carling," Campbell tutted, "It's a shame you couldn't be this macho in your private life, or maybe Christopher likes it a little rough huh?" 

With the help of Gene, Sam managed to drag Ray out of the interview kicking and screaming, his shouts getting quieter and less vehement the further away from the suspect they took him. Arriving at Gene's office, they threw him inside and shut the door from prying eyes.

"Go home Ray, we have it covered, there's no way he can get out of this, we have watertight evidence." Sam did his best to be calm, keeping his voice soft but insistent in the hope that for the first time ever, Ray would listen to him.

"I don't give a shit about m'self but if it goes to court, Chris' career is over. I can't let that 'appen." Ray's tone turned pleading and Sam couldn't help but feel sorry for him; he was right, this could get messy fast.

"Go home Ray," Gene ordered, staring at Ray until he nodded almost imperceptibly.

When Ray had left, Gene sat down heavily and opened his desk drawer. Sam didn't waste his breath telling the DCI not to drink but merely nodded his acceptance as Gene passed the bottle to him. They consumed the warm, sticky fluid in silence, both lost in their own thoughts; every time Gene handed over the bottle his fingers brushed against Sam's, the combination of the alcohol and the touch were dizzyingly intoxicating.

"We 'ave to get 'im to confess. Then we can tell the press the bare minimum and put 'im straight inside."

"He'll still sing from the rooftops." Sam stared at Gene and despite the tension in the air, he couldn't help noticing how green the other man's eyes were. "I don't know whether we can get him to confess, he seems fairly intelligent - which is why it worries me that we solved this so easily."

"Too easily?" Gene said incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yer never 'appy, always got to make things as complicated as possible. Sometimes things are exactly what they seem Tyler."

"In my experience, things are usually nothing like they seem," Sam countered, not talking about the case.

"Come on my little deputy, let’s go get a confession from this scumbag," Gene said, hoisting himself out of his seat and walking around the desk. Helping Sam up he trailed his fingers across the inside of his wrist, a feather-light caress that made Sam's knees go weak.

To Sam's utter amazement it took the tiniest amount of persuasion and Richard Campbell was singing like a canary. He seemed to delight in detailing the crime with particular emphasis on Ray and Chris' sexuality but when Sam insinuated that the suspect himself might be gay, he'd gone mental, trying to take a swipe at Sam before Gene put him forcefully back in his place. 

Sam didn't like it, the feeling of unease was starting to get stronger and stronger with every passing moment: it seemed like everything was going their way but there was something missing.

Locking Campbell back up for the night Gene announced with his usual fervour that it was beer o' clock and the team headed to the Railway Arms. Ray and Chris made sure to arrive separately and spent the evening avoiding each other, a public display to ward off the speculation. Sam didn't know whether it worked, Ray was never very touchy feely in the first place but now he was hyper aware of everybody's eyes, macho to the point of ridiculousness. If it wasn't so sad it would have been funny.

After drinking most of the team under the table, Gene grabbed Sam and hauled him outside. To onlookers, Sam knew it appeared that he'd angered the DCI again and was going to get a bit of Gene's personal brand of castigation. As soon as they were outside Gene headed to the Cortina unsteadily. Sam was sick of having the drink driving argument over and over again, so when the Guv's attention was elsewhere Sam snatched the keys from him, dodging the inevitable blows and getting into the driver’s seat. To Sam's amazement Gene climbed into the passenger seat with only a modicum of complaint, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as Sam gunned the engine theatrically and drove to his flat, his skin tingling with anticipation as Gene followed him inside without a word.

It annoyed Sam to quite a considerable degree that Gene clearly thought they were going to have sex regardless of the way he treated him, that he could act like Sam meant nothing to him and yet still expected to have him come running at the drop of a hat; what annoyed Sam more though, was that he was right. 

Wandering into the flat like he owned the place, Sam was reminded of the way Gene sauntered into Ray's house but tried to quickly push the unwanted thoughts away before they could take hold.

Gene reached for the bottle of whiskey that Sam kept in the flat purely for his visits, pouring himself a generous measure and sprawling over the armchair with his legs spread wide in a typically masculine pose. Sam sat cautiously on the bed, fearing the creaks signalled a catastrophic structural failure, he limited his movements and wished for the millionth time for a better bed.

"Are we gonna sit 'ere all night?" Gene questioned, eyebrow quirked in challenge.

"That depends what you want and how much you want it," Sam murmured in his closest approximation of a seductive tone.

"You've got to be kiddin' me Gladys, get over 'ere before I change me mind." 

Sam felt the anger bubble up to the surface and erupt before he could stop it.

"That's it, get out. I'm not your little bum boy to use whenever you see fit. I don't even know why I'm with you in the first place, you clearly don't give a damn about anyone but yourself. You're the most hypocritical, arrogant, egotistical, repressed homosexual homophobe I've ever met, now get out before I throw you out." Sam shouted the last few words, getting into Gene's face and clenching his fists in preparation for a fight.

"I wondered when yer'd grow a pair Sammy-boy, I do love it when you get all butch," Gene growled, eyes focused on Sam's bottom lip.

"I mean it Gene, leave." Sam's voice wavered much to his chagrin and he found his heartbeat had sped up quite considerably as he took in the expression on Gene's face.

Before Sam had time to react, Gene grabbed both his hands and pulled him down until he straddled the bigger man's hips, in the brief struggle to be released, Sam noticed Gene's erection, stilling momentarily to recover his breath until their lips met and it was stolen again.

Kissing had never been a part of their trysts, the first time Gene had initiated anything remotely sexual, it had started with a kiss but since then Gene had avoided that particular kind of intimacy and Sam hadn't felt like he should push the issue. 

Gene kissed like he meant it and Sam felt his resolve weakening with each passing second. He ground his hips against Gene's and moaned softly until he felt rather than heard the Guv chuckle and pulled back sharply.

"What's funny?" Sam asked, irritation creeping into his tone.

"Nothin', just enjoyin' the fact that you somehow manage to be both morally superior an' a bit of a goer at the same time." 

"A bit of a goer?" Sam questioned, the blush already creeping over his cheeks at Gene's scrutiny.

"Yeah you know, up for it, rarin' to go, a right, little raver." Gene teased, running his hands down Sam's back until the younger man quivered under his palms.

Both men stilled for a moment, the expectancy hanging heavy in the air as they contemplated the situation, then, as if a dam had been suddenly breached, Sam surged forward, cupping Gene's jaw in his palms and kissing him deeply. Balancing precariously, Sam ground his hips into Gene's and tangled their tongues together, duelling for dominance; despite their physical positions with Sam on top, neither man was under any illusion that the DCI wasn’t in control, steering the kiss and running the show.

It was such an intoxicating feeling, Sam thought, to not have to be in control, to relinquish the power and know that he was going to be taken care of and everything would be okay. If only he could learn to switch off his brain their liaisons would be perfect, but however much he was deviating from his previous behaviour, he was still Sam Tyler and certain things wouldn't change; so for now he'd be content to have these moments, no matter how confusing and downright bizarre they might be.

Sam struggled to his feet and pulled Gene upright by his tie, casting his eyes around the tiny area for an available surface and finding the small room infinitely lacking in sturdy horizontal spaces. 

"I really have to get a bigger flat," Sam sighed, feeling his ardour lessen as he eyed the bed warily.

"Where's yer sense of adventure Sammy-boy?" 

Gene's eyes twinkled with a combination of lust and mischief and Sam felt the shiver all the way to his toes. Moving forward, Gene's tie still between his fingers, Sam pressed his body flush against the older man's, crushing their lips together again and grabbing a handful of dirty blonde hair, as they fought for control, familiar in its physicality and yet entirely different from the violence at work.

In the end, desperation drove them to the floor, rucking like animals, Gene's weight lying heavily on Sam's chest as he wrapped his legs around the bigger man's waist, erections grinding together, creating a delicious friction that drove both men crazy in no time at all.

Feeling his orgasm building slowly, Sam found himself incapable of doing anything but holding on for dear life, panting into Gene's mouth and kissing the older man's throat with the closest Sam had ever come to wild abandon. 

Just as Sam was about to succumb to the wave of pleasure that was threatening to wash over him at any moment, Gene looked into his eyes, whispering words of endearment and stroking Sam's sweaty hair. The incongruence of the moment tossed Sam over the edge and he came powerfully, screwing his eyes shut and grunting deeply as he rode the aftermath, relaxing finally in exhausted contentment.

"I knew I 'ad more stamina than you yer great Jessie," Gene crowed, completely shattering the tender moment Sam was trying desperately to hold on to. Staring into Sam's satiated face, Gene frowned. "Are you gonna leave me hangin' all night? Only if I'd 'ave wanted an unsatisfying sexual encounter, I'd 'ave stayed at 'ome."

Noticing that Gene was still hard, Sam wriggled out from under him, eliciting some strongly worded complaints from the bigger man until he realised exactly what Sam was trying to do. Encouraging Gene to turn over so that he was face up, Sam got on his hands and knees, nuzzling his boss' crotch and taking a deep breath as he tentatively licked the head of Gene's cock. The effect on the DCI was instantaneous and spectacular, he writhed and moaned, trying to thrust himself further into Sam's mouth, banging his head hard on the floor in the process; Sam chuckled, sending vibrations shooting all the way through Gene and making his toes curl. 

It took an unexpectedly long time for Gene to orgasm, Sam's jaw hurt and his neck was sore but he kept going, needing to finish the job. When Gene warned in a strained voice of his impending release, Sam moved his head, unfortunately resulting in an eyeful of come that was probably one hundred percent proof, or at least it seemed to Sam as his eye stung and watered despite the immediate rinsing. Gene's eyes watered too but for an entirely different reason as he guffawed ungallantly.

"Bullseye," Gene spluttered between chuckles.

Sam glared but had to smile at the look of joy on the Guv's face as he continued to laugh uproariously.

When he'd calmed down sufficiently, Gene started to get dressed and prepared to leave, hunting around Sam's miniscule flat for his underwear before abandoning the quest and sliding his trousers over his bare flesh. Sam couldn't help but feel a glimmer of arousal at the thought of Gene walking around naked under the hideous slacks, and deliberately feigned ignorance of the item in question’s whereabouts despite his knowledge that they were under the bed. 

"If me pride an' joy get chafed, I'm 'oldin' you personally responsible Gladys," Gene promised, with a grin on his face the size of his ego.

"I'll just have to kiss it better then won't I," Sam teased, cringing at the cheesy line but grinning right back at the annoyingly enticing man in front of him.

For a few seconds they just stood smiling at each other, neither man willing to move, until Gene twitched and reality crashed back into the room, killing the relaxed mood and light-hearted banter in an instant. 

"I'd better go, the wife will be wonderin' where I am."

Sam thought that was unlikely but said nothing, allowing Gene to keep his carefully constructed lie that his marriage was anything other than a sham alive. Gene ducked his head and Sam could see that the older man was well aware that Sam was buying none of it but was keeping his own counsel for the time being, the hour for that discussion was sometime in the future.

Closing the door behind his boss, Sam leaned against it for a few seconds, closing his eyes and feeling each breath expand his chest as he allowed the memories of the evening to flow over him, thick, smooth and seductive like molten lava.

"You shouldn't allow yourself to be used Sam."

Jumping almost out of his skin, Sam opened his eyes to find the terrifying little girl in front of him.

"You can't be here, I'm awake." Sam hit himself in the head and winced at the sharp stab of pain. "I can't deal with you now. Go away."

The little girl took a step closer making all the hair on the back of Sam's neck stand on end.

"He's not a friend Sam. I'm your only friend. He just wants to use you. Use and abuse, but then you like abuse don't you Sam?" she sing-songed, her claw-like hands clutching the demonic clown doll tightly.

Covering his ears with his hands and screwing his eyes shut, Sam suddenly emerged back into consciousness to find himself lying on his rickety bed fully clothed. Breathing a sigh of relief when he realised the little girl was gone, he allowed himself a small smile at the vision of Gene with no underwear on, as his door splintered off its hinges and a masked man stood silhouetted in his doorway.

Sam rolled off the bed and scrabbled for a weapon as the man walked into the room. His body language was menacing as he advanced on Sam relentlessly: not hurrying, but steady, calm and utterly focused. 

The man's shoes filled Sam's vision and a spark of recognition fired up, his mind a whirl of inappropriate thoughts as time seemed to slow to a standstill. A flash of memory was pushed to the forefront of his brain, a pair of shoes in the suspect’s house identical to the ones in front of him and that made no sense but his mind was insistent in its remembrance of the detail. Not that it mattered now anyhow as the man brought what looked like a pipe crashing down on Sam's head: his arm poised to defend himself was useless against the heavy blow and Sam felt his arm crack as the lights of his consciousness went out.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam woke up in small increments, each more painful than the last until he almost wished he'd stayed unconscious. A wave of nausea rolled over him as he attempted to move his head, eyes still closed, and he was forced to abort even this tiny movement until the sickness passed. Sam breathed shallowly, each respiration rasping through his dry and cracked lips as he struggled to stay calm. He counted out a minute in his head slowly, listening hard for any external sounds and when he'd reached the designated moment, he tried to open his eyes - and couldn't. 

Fighting the rising panic, Sam concentrated on his eyelids, trying again to open them and realising with some relief that his eyelashes were stuck together - he guessed with blood - and that he wasn't blind. Straining hard and breathing heavily with the effort, he repeatedly attempted to force his eyes to open, wincing as his lashes were pulled and feeling the nausea strike as his head made the slightest movement. Eventually a dim light flooded into his brain and he remained still, his breathing entirely consuming his focus as he lay on the floor, fighting hard to stay in control as the seconds ticked past.

Looking at the ceiling, Sam tried to remember his training, absorbing every small detail of its structure, colour, height - everything. He took in his surroundings with his other senses, not wanting to risk being sick when he was lying on his back unable to move, a wave of pure fear swept through him and it was all he could do to stop himself crying out. 

Okay, focus Sam. 

Mentally coaching himself, trying to psyche himself up so he could think clearly, Sam started to catalogue the facts as he knew them. He was lying on a concrete floor, the cold numbed his body and yet the pain was still present and undimmed, alternately throbbing and then stabbing with a fiery intensity that threatened to overwhelm him. 

He could move his toes so he realised with no small amount of relief that he wasn't paralysed, clearly he was suffering from a head injury, that much was obvious from the rolling nausea in the pit of his stomach every time he tried to move his head. He concentrated on his arms, firstly trying to move the left; after a few moments of nothing, just when Sam was starting to fear that he was wrong about being paralysed, pins and needles tore through his arm. He tried to shake them off but was dismayed to hear a clink as he tried to pull his arm back. As the feeling in his arm returned, he was aware of metal biting into his wrist, the cold seeming to seep into his bones, his arm was handcuffed to a metal object. 

Turning his attentions to the other arm, he tried to move and what little light there had been vanished as he lost consciousness suddenly.

Coming back to himself, Sam almost vomited from the intensity of the pain in his arm. Finding he could move his head without the same feeling of nausea overtaking him, Sam looked to the left to find his guess about being handcuffed to something metal was right. A gas pipe from floor to ceiling was his gaoler, the metal circling his wrist tightly and Sam had little hope that his kidnappers had been so remiss as to leave the keys anywhere about his person.

Taking a deep breath and turning his head slowly to the right, Sam could immediately tell that his arm was badly broken, the flesh was mottled and red, corpse-like, and there was a bump where no bump should be. 

Suddenly remembering the circumstances of his kidnap, Sam had a vision of the pipe crashing down and winced, swallowing audibly, his throat dry and sore. Sam started to lose the fight against the panic as a shot of adrenaline was flushed round his system, the hair on the back of his neck rising as the horror of his situation became all too clear and the likelihood of everything turning out well receded into the distance.

"Ah, you're awake that's good, this will be more fun," a disembodied voice floated around Sam's prone form, the sound echoing off the walls and lending a sinister air to an already very malevolent tone.

"What do you want?" Sam asked, trying to ascertain where the person was standing but finding it impossible to pinpoint.

"All in good time, let's chat for a while," the man took on a friendly tone that did nothing to calm Sam, staying out of his field of vision but scraping a chair along the floor like nails on a blackboard.

Sam remembered his police training: get the kidnapper to see you as a real person, bond with them, get them to realise that you have a family that love you and people that would miss you, but most importantly of all - keep them talking; if they were talking then they weren't doing anything else. Sam shuddered.

"My name is Sam. What do you want to talk about?" 

A humourless laugh, "I know exactly who you are DI Tyler and I know exactly what you're doing."

Sam felt like his heart was being squeezed tightly, he gasped for breath and felt the panic spiral out of control as the words and their meaning sunk in.

"DS Skelton was merely the entrée, sweet though he was. It was always about someone else," the way the man said 'sweet' made Sam fear that Chris had been traumatised in more ways than the obvious.

"You used him to get to me," Sam murmured almost to himself, startled as a loud, barking laugh reverberated around the room.

"Oh Sam, such an ego for one so small. Pretty though you are, I have my sights set much higher."

Heels clicking over the concrete made Sam aware that the conversation was over, he was more afraid than ever. There was no doubt that this man had something to do with Chris' kidnapping but the realisation that the motive was not as clear as before weighed heavy on Sam's mind and he started to worry for Gene's safety. 

At the thought of Gene, Sam felt his body ache, he hadn't realised just how much the older man meant to him and the thought that Gene was in danger and there was absolutely nothing Sam could do to protect him was terrifying. Sam was sure Gene was feeling exactly the same way, at least a part of him hoped he was.

Sam lay on the floor for what seemed like days, losing all focus as he drifted in and out of consciousness, time elongating and contracting as though it wasn't fixed and linear. The thought of Gene was the only thing that Sam could concentrate on for more than five minutes at a time, the pain in his arm was unbearable but the thought of Gene looking at him with lust burning behind his green gaze kept him going.

Sam may spend most of his working day teasing Gene about his policing methods, sneering with disdain as he corrects every little thing and yet he knows Gene is a good copper. They disagree on execution but nobody can argue with the results and Sam has every confidence that Gene will solve this case.

That's what worries him.

"Having fun yet DI Tyler?" the voice startled Sam and the resulting movement of his arm made him cry out involuntarily.

Breathing deeply and steadily until the pain receded to a dull roar, Sam mentally tried to prepare himself for round two with the kidnapper.

"Just let me go." Sam did his best to keep the pleading tone out of his tremulous request but failed miserably as the man laughed maniacally.

"I don't think so. I must say I'm a bit surprised that DCI Hunt hasn't burst in here yet in his customarily reckless style, I left enough clues even for a Neanderthal like him to follow. Maybe he just doesn't love you," he sneered, leaning over Sam just enough for him to see that he was wearing a ski mask, his eyes blazed with a fire that scared Sam more than the cruel tone of his voice.

"I don't know what you're taking about," Sam said, eyes closed to escape the horrible gaze that seemed to bore into his head.

"Oh come now Sam, don't take me for a fool, any idiot can see that you two are fucking like the disgusting, sick creatures that you are. I can smell it on you," he sniffed theatrically, the sound loud in the empty room, "I've been looking for a way to bring Hunt down for years. I couldn't believe my luck when you came on to the scene, I watched Hunt slobbering over you, watching you, yearning after you and I knew this was my chance."

"DCI Hunt and I are just colleagues nothing more, I am straight and I'm pretty sure he is too, he's married after all." 

The man chuckled, the sound reverberating around the room, bouncing off the walls and echoing with malice.

"I would say the lady doth protest too much but it's a trifle clichéd. If you're telling the truth then using you as bait won't work and I can just kill you. Hard to know what to hope for isn't it?" 

"Gene will find you, arrest you and anything else I'm not going to admit to witnessing but I can vouch for the fact that he has a bit of a temper," Sam said menacingly, his voice steady and his eyes fixed on the kidnapper's.

"I'm counting on him finding me but there'll be no arresting, just justice; sweet, poetic justice." 

The maniacal glimmer in the masked man's eyes intensified and Sam shivered, partly from the cold but mostly from the fear.

Reaching for the woollen mask, the man pulled it from his head, his hair immediately fluffy, the light shining from behind made it look like a halo and Sam had to strain to see the man's face, what he saw made him gasp out loud.

"W-We have you in custody, this is impossible," Sam stammered, shaking his head and then regretting the sharp movement as his ears started to ring.

"You have my brother in custody, he took one for the team as it were." 

Sam traced the lines of the man's face with his eyes, a flicker of a memory pulled at his mind and he frowned, trying to fully remember, trying to catalogue its significance. A photograph on Campbell's bedside table, the suspect with his arms slung round another man, a very similar looking man to himself, it was this man and they hadn't realised the significance. 

"Identical twins," Sam murmured softy, mostly to himself.

Crouching next to Sam, the man held out a hand and ran it down the side of the DI's face, gently; more a caress than a threat. Sam tried to pull away but couldn't, his stomach rolled in disgust and he tasted bile in his mouth.

"Don't touch me," Sam said, voice wavering slightly as he spat the words.

The man was so close his breath tickled Sam's face. "That's just what your little colleague said. I bet that's not what you say to DCI Hunt is it?"

A deafening noise and a cacophony of shouting filled the air. Sam felt the man crouch behind him, pushing him up into a half sitting position and manoeuvring himself between his captive and the wall, the bite of metal stinging against the soft flesh of Sam's throat as a knife was pushed dangerously close.

The man's proximity coupled with the sudden movement made Sam feel sick. His mind swam with a thousand thoughts and emotions, none of which he could articulate but his primary feeling was one of relief, relief that Gene was here, relief that he was no longer alone.

"Put down the knife and come out with yer 'ands up, yer low life piece of scum." Gene screamed, gun held aloft and panic lacing his features like a mask.

"That's not how this is going to work DCI Hunt. I'm in charge here and if you want your pretty, little boyfriend back in one piece then you will do exactly as I say." Each word was spoken with a deceptive softness, the man's breath skittering over Sam's flesh and making it crawl.

"What yer talkin' about? 'e's not me boyfriend, I'm married!" Gene shouted, eyes glinting in the dim light and hand shaking as he struggled to hold the gun steady.

"I've had this discussion with Sam here, I didn't believe him and I don't believe you. If you're telling the truth though, you won't mind if I do this will you?"

Campbell snaked the hand that wasn't holding the knife down Sam's shivering body, cupping his soft cock through his clothes with a firm grip and stroking leisurely. Sam tried to move his arm and cried with the pain, the sound loud and animalistic.

"Stop it! Take yer filthy 'ands off him now or I swear I'll kill yer." 

Gene stepped forward and Campbell pressed the knife closer to Sam's throat, maintaining eye contact with Gene and smiling when the bigger man stopped in his tracks.

"That's a good boy. Step back so I don't hurt your playmate. Now let's discuss what I want, shall we?" The man took Gene's silence as permission and continued, "I want you to publicly admit your sickness, let everybody know that you're fucking your DI. Do that and I'll let him go and come in quietly, refuse and I'll kill him. Simple."

Silence hung in the air as nobody moved. Sam who had previously kept his eyes fixed on Gene's now wandered to the other members of the team. Ray was looking worried, his eyes on the floor as Annie crept forward, casting glances between the Guv and Sam, eyes questioning and yet concern radiated from her in waves.

"I'm going to have some fun with Sam here while you have a think about my proposal," the man said, turning his full attentions on Sam who was starting to feel like ice was dripping into the pit of his stomach.

Casting panicked eyes at Gene, Sam tried to ignore the hand undoing his trousers, to block out the sensation of fingers crawling across his flesh and to remember the warmth he felt with Gene, his breathing shallow as he fought to overcome the rising revulsion and horror. 

Campbell started to peel off Sam's clothing, the position and the situation hampering his efforts but he continued with a steely determination that told Sam he was not going to stop, that he never would stop.

"I admit it," Gene said suddenly, seemingly surprised at the words leaving his mouth.

There was a sharp, collective intake of breath as everybody in the room sorted out the words into some semblance of meaning, Campbell stopped his movement and chuckled softly, his laughter jostling Sam and causing pain to shoot through his body.

"I admit it, don't hurt 'im." Gene repeated in a pleading tone that no one had heard him use before.

"It's a start I suppose but it's not quite public enough, it doesn't have the drama I'm after." 

"I'm not leavin' you with 'im," Gene said, tone brooking no argument but body language showing he was clearly shaken by the strange, horrible turn of events.

"I thought you might say that, I'm prepared for every eventuality. There'll be a news crew arriving shortly and you will repeat your rousing little 'don't hurt 'im' speech in front of a more receptive crowd. If you don't it will make a hell of a good story when I slit his throat," the man crowed, infinitely pleased with himself.

Sam watched as Gene swallowed thickly, the decision between Sam and his job, his life, was weighing heavily across his features and Sam realised with unnerving clarity that he would do anything for Gene. Had the situation been reversed he would walk across hot coals if it meant saving the older man's life but then he supposed he had less to lose than Gene, he didn't have any credibility here anyway; everybody thought he was a mentally unstable nancy boy and they couldn't think worse of him, well, not much worse. But if Gene wasn't a copper, what would he be?

"I'll take the dumb silence as your agreement," Campbell said smugly, one hand disappearing into Sam's opened and rucked trousers, the other holding the knife steadily against his throat. "You know, I actually don't know what to hope for. The pleasure of feeling your boyfriend's blood running over my fingers, or your humiliation and absolute ruin at the hands of the press,” he giggled and shrugged, going back to working his hand over Sam.

A deafening noise ripped through the room, Sam's ears started ringing and the knife clattered to the floor, the sound adding to the assortment of bells going off in his head. The pressure against his back eased and Sam was totally confused. He tried to look behind him but was stopped by a sharp pain in his neck, the ringing in his ears intensifying with the movement.

Turning his head to the side, Sam saw a sight that made his stomach jump and relief fizzle through his veins. Chris stood stock still, arms outstretched, the proverbial smoking gun in his hands and a look of horror and rage plastered over his normally placid features. As the seconds passed, a visible trembling started in the younger man, the door he had walked through mere moments ago still closing slowly behind him.

Suddenly the whole place was a flurry of activity, press and police officers were everywhere, their movements slowed down to Sam, like they were operating in a different time zone to himself. 

He saw Ray move swiftly over to his lover, the public setting momentarily forgotten as he cradled the young man's cheek in his palm and crooned platitudes at him, the image totally at odds with what Sam knew about the gruff DS.

Sam shivered violently, the shock and the cold starting to catch up with him as the adrenaline left his system and a numbing emptiness took its place. Gene stood apparently frozen to the spot, his eyes fixed on the unmoving body of Campbell and the gun still raised in front of him.

Sam woke in the hospital, over-starched linen scratchy against his abused skin. His arm throbbed heavy and insistent and his head was fuzzy, feeling like it was filled with cotton wool. He sighed deeply, his hearing muffled, the sounds of the hospital distorted as if Sam were underwater, the effect made him feel increasingly isolated and removed from reality. He supposed he was suffering from PTSD but knowing that fact did not make dealing with it any easier.

"Yer awake, sleepin beauty."

Sam started, turning his head in the direction of the voice and on seeing Gene sat with his feet up on the bed, felt relief crashing through him.

"Mmhmm," Sam attempted to confirm, his throat sore and the sound coming out a raspy croak.

Gene cast a quick look at the door which remained closed and tentatively placed his hand over Sam's, his thumb rubbing light circles over the younger man's wrist, the silence between them heavy and seductive, crackling with intensity even from the small touch.

"Would you have given yourself up to the press for me?" Sam asked, needing to know even as his brain screamed at him to let it go.

"I, I don't know. I couldn't watch 'im hurt yer. But wi'out this job..." Gene trailed off, uncertainty lacing his voice and that worried Sam more than anything. Gene was never uncertain, he was strong and forceful and fucking magnificent.

Sam closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose, his whole body aching except for the point when his skin touched Gene's, an oasis of calm amidst the pain.

"I think Campbell probably raped Chris," Sam said, eyes never leaving Gene's but voice shaking slightly.

"I know," Gene murmured sadly, swallowing thickly and shaking his head as if to remove any unwanted images that Sam's words had conjured up.

"He's going to need counselling."

Gene looked at Sam as though he'd gone mad, a look that had becoming increasingly uncommon but one that was familiar none-the-less.

"No, e's gonna need a stiff drink an 'is friends supportin' 'im by never mentionin' it again," Gene said vehemently, his eyes blazing and the hand that wasn't covering Sam's clenching and unclenching as though he wanted to hit someone. 

There was no point in arguing with Gene, Sam realised, his attitude was the same as everybody else's no doubt, but Sam felt his heart clench uncomfortably when he thought about Chris and what he had been through and what was still to come. Sam was sure Ray would have no clue how to deal with the emotions that Chris was sure to be suffering. Sam had no way of knowing if his hunch about Chris' ordeal was right, he hoped not for his sake.

"I've got to get back, I've a city to look after, I can't stay 'ere with yer delectable self, much as I'd like to." Gene winked as he whispered the last words and bent close to Sam, his lips brushing the injured man's ear and causing a visible shiver.

Gene's heels clicked over the linoleum floor as he made to leave, Sam missed him already, giggling at the sappy thought as he drifted back into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The biggest issue in Sam's mind when he woke was: why? Why Gene? Why any of them? What had happened at some probably inauspicious moment in the past that had led to such hatred? The thought that Gene might have known Campbell weighed heavily but Sam didn't think he could believe that Gene would deliberately hold something like that back from him, not when such information could have a huge impact on the case. 

Maybe Gene didn't know Campbell but the other man knew him? Gene ruffled plenty of feathers in the average day and the chances of him remembering anyone he'd ever slighted in some way were incomprehensible. Yet to have insulted or affected this man's life to the point where he would do this - that seemed unlikely even for Gene.

"Ready to come 'ome then Gladys? Chop, chop then, I ain't got all day." Gene's dulcet tones broke through Sam's thought processes and left all his carefully constructed arguments lying shattered in pieces. 

Looking around the hospital room, Sam brought his gaze back to Gene, in the end everything came back to the older man. He was stood in his customary arrogant pose; hands in the pockets of his horrible, cheap slacks that his missus no doubt purchased from some market stall, dark brown shirt with a few buttons undone, revealing the dip in his throat that made Sam's mouth water and of course the camel hair coat of his dreams.

"I know I'm bloody gorgeous but yer can't just stare all day. Come on, get a move on; we're missing valuable shaggin' time," Gene said with a twinkle in his beautiful green eyes.

Sam grinned, and pretended not to notice the hitch in his boss' breath as he blinded the older man with his smile. 

"I 'ope that's not yer knuckle shuffle 'and." Gene crowed, gesticulating between Sam's crotch and his broken arm, knowing full well that given Sam was right handed, the chances were pretty high that it was. "Yer gonna be a frustrated little bunny aren't yer?" he teased, cocky grin firmly planted on his face.

Sam groaned long and loud, looking at the clumsy, massive cast with horror and a sinking feeling that Gene was definitely going to enjoy his discomfort far too much.

"Maybe if yer a good boy I might lend an 'and - so to speak." Gene paused for dramatic emphasis. "Or maybe not."

Collecting his things, most of which Gene must have procured from his flat when he was presumably unconscious, Sam made towards the door, trying not to think of the mess his own door must be in given the fact that Gene had no key. He also tried desperately to ignore the warm feeling that Gene's sweet gesture provoked.

"Have you gone through Campbell's place? The dead Campbell I mean," Sam questioned as soon as they were out of the hospital doors and striding to the Cortina.

Gene carried on walking as though Sam hadn't just asked him a question, opening the car door and climbing inside without a backwards glance. Once both men were safely ensconced in the comforting interior with its smoky atmosphere Gene turned to Sam and started to talk, raising his hand to let Sam know not to interrupt. "I'm sorry it took us so long to get to yer and I don't want to think about what that bastard did while I weren't there to protect yer..."

Sam raised his eyebrows but allowed Gene to continue.

"...I don't know what I'd a done if... well, never mind but the point I'm tryin' to make is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not bein' able to be... God this talkin' shit is a lot 'arder than it looks." Gene looked thoughtful for a moment and then fear flitted across his features. "Tell me 'e didn't... I mean 'e didn't, you know? Like wi' Chris, did 'e?"

Sam hurriedly shook his head and Gene slumped with relief.

"Chris will need help, you know?"

Raising his hand to stop the conversation, Gene sighed, "There's nothin' any of us can do. Ray's gonna 'ave to get his 'ead out 'is arse and talk to the boy. 'E's not gonna want any o' us stickin' our noses in, makin' it worse and 'e definitely won't want yer talkin' to 'im like 'e's some bird either. So just leave it DI Tyler."

Thinking better of carrying on with the matter, Sam shut up and stared ahead, hoping that Gene might continue with his earlier apology. Gene's words had made Sam hope that the older man had some sort of deeper feelings for him and he didn't want to let that go. 

His patience was rewarded when Gene looked at him, the pain and worry plain to see in his eyes as he stammered, "Sam I, I'm glad. I..." 

Finding no other words, Gene leaned forward and cupped Sam's jaw in his large palms, placing his lips firmly over his lover's despite the public venue and kissing him passionately, letting all the horror of the last few weeks spill out between them until there was nothing left but them.

Pulling back, Sam licked his lips, tasting the older man; a combination of cigarettes, whiskey and love on his tongue.

"Home then?" Sam asked tentatively, not wanting to appear pushy for the first time ever.

"You bet Gladys, I'm gonna give yer the rogerin' of yer life."

Tyres screeched as Gene peeled away from the curb, leaving most of the rubber on the road in his haste to get Sam somewhere private. The journey felt like a lifetime and both men were getting increasingly frustrated as they pulled up outside Sam's crappy flat. Exiting the car with a haste they usually reserved for chasing after suspects, they practically ran up the stairs and into the privacy of the little room. 

Sam was wrong about the state of his door: there didn't seem to be any more damage than the last time Gene kicked it in, which led Sam to wonder just how the Guv gained entry to his humble abode. The time for thinking was long gone as Gene shoved him back against the door in question, plastering himself against Sam and just breathing, the warm air skittering over Sam's lips as they stared at each other.

Suddenly, as if some great question in Gene's head had been answered, he surged forward, the gap that wasn't there to begin with swallowed up as Gene kissed Sam with fervour, their lips crashing together and their breath mingling. They explored each other's mouths with an intensity that surprised them both.

Coming up for air, Gene peeled the shirt from Sam's slim shoulders, only having to remove one arm, the other being too small for the cast. The shirt fluttered to the ground as the DCI ran his calloused fingers over the sensitive flesh of Sam's chest, bringing goose bumps to the surface and causing a shiver that had Gene chuckling. Resuming the frantic kissing, Gene brushed his hands over the front of Sam's skin tight cords, ignoring where Sam wanted attention most and instead reaching around and cupping the younger man's backside, squeezing hard and pulling Sam in until he stood on tiptoes, his groin pressed against Gene's, their hardnesses matching.

Sam buried his face in Gene's neck, the smell of expensive aftershave making Sam shudder as he realised it was especially for him; the cheap stuff the Guv normally wore didn't even compare. As Sam inhaled deeply, Gene moaned low in his throat, the sound shooting straight to the younger man's groin, his boss' hands now roaming over Sam's entire body with a desperation that made him feel faint with lust. 

They had never been like this before, the sex had always been good - sometimes too good - but it had never had this fierceness before, this crazy, mad intensity that was making every nerve in Sam's body sing. Maybe it was the fact that Sam now knew Gene cared, probably more than he wanted to, or maybe it was just the trauma intensifying everything but whatever it was, Sam didn't know whether he was going to last very long.

Gene was panting into Sam's mouth, his hips thrusting against his lover's with an urgency that drove the younger man crazy. Sam had to slow things down or he would end up coming in his pants and he didn't plan to end things that way. Pushing at Gene's chest, the Guv stumbled backwards, his hair a mess and his chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon, the look on his face was one of absolute wonder and surprise and Sam felt the overwhelming urge to hug him.

"Won't last much longer like this," Sam panted, closing his eyes and trying to bring himself away from the brink.

When he was confident that the sight of Gene wasn't going to make him come so hard he'd see stars, Sam opened his eyes. Walking forwards slowly, Sam fiddled with the buttons on Gene's shirt, concentrating on sliding each one out of it's hole with lust-clumsy fingers, as Gene just stood not attempting to help. When the last one came free, Sam pulled the shirt out of Gene's waistband, throwing it over his shoulder and fixing his mouth to the Guv's flesh, sucking and biting and flicking his tongue over the flushed skin as Gene groaned with wild abandon, all concern for Sam's neighbours forgotten.

Sam came up for air and wrapped his arms round Gene's neck, pecking him on the throat and then following up with a swipe of his tongue over Gene's mouth. He dipped between saliva-shiny lips to taste his lover again, concentrating on memorising the taste so he could use it when Gene had to return to his wife, the long, lonely nights stretching in front of him.

"I've missed yer," Gene whispered so low Sam almost didn't hear it.

"Me too," Sam said in return and realised he meant it with every fibre of his being.

For a moment they just stood, heads together, foreheads touching; breathing in the other's exhaled breath and waiting for the next move. When it came, Sam felt like his entire body was on fire, he ached and he yearned and all the love songs he'd ever heard started to make sense. 

Laughing softly to himself, Sam looked up into confused eyes and smiled his most blinding smile, wrinkling his nose and showing his teeth as Gene looked even more confused but couldn't stop himself from smiling too.

"What's funny?" Gene asked, his breath ghosting over Sam's lips and causing a shiver.

"Nothing... I just, well I'm glad I'm here." Sam ducked his head, resting comfortably in the crook of Gene's shoulder, mouthing his next words directly against heated flesh. "Love you."

The room felt like it had suddenly become a vacuum as the confession hung in the air, the enormity of those two tiny words laying heavily between them.

Gene stood stock still, the only sign that he was still alive being the gentle expansion and contraction of his chest as he breathed. Sam was instantly afraid, his heartbeat rising as Gene remained a statue, their embrace a still photograph capturing the moment seconds before Sam's admission. 

Gene looked into Sam's worried, brown eyes and traced his thumb over the younger man's lips. Sam felt the slide of the Guv's skin over his slippery flesh and hardly dared to breathe, hoping with everything in him that he hadn't gone and messed it up. 

The words, when they came, were like a balm; soothing and smooth and so very welcome. "I... God, I... Sam. 'Ow can this have 'appened...?" Gene took a deep breath and continued, seeming to face his fear head on. "Me too," he said slowly as if it had just occurred to him that it was the truth.

Sam felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, and all the trauma and hurt that he had experienced were just washed away with those glorious words. Kissing Gene hard, Sam let the older man know just how much he appreciated everything he'd done for him, panting into his mouth and fisting a hand in deceptively soft blonde hair.

Pulling away from the kiss, Gene smirked at Sam, his cocky countenance firmly back in place as he looked his younger lover up and down lasciviously. "I am gonna make yer scream DI Tyler. I'm gonna bend you over that crappy, little excuse for a kitchen table and roger yer senseless."

With his knees trembling and his heart pounding, Sam tilted his head to one side and raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Is that your idea of romance DCI Hunt?"

Gene laughed long and hard, his head thrown back and his eyes twinkling with obvious merriment. "If yer wanted romance, then yer barkin' up the wrong tree; now come 'ere before I 'ave to take matters into me own 'ands."

Sam obeyed orders for the first time ever and wrapped himself around his boss, pulling him in hard and allowing his hands to roam over every inch of his lover. Gene appeared to savour the resulting kiss for a moment, a passenger of Sam's desire before coming to his senses and pushing Sam away. Stalking him with an almost feral look on his face as he backed Sam to the bed and pounced; Gene planted a hand in the middle of his chest, shoving until Sam was flat on his back. The bedsprings creaked their protest as he landed.

Removing his belt with intent, Gene secured Sam's wrists together, the unwieldy cast grazing his other wrist as they were pressed together. He cinched it tight and checked that Sam couldn't escape; not that he had any intention of doing so.

Gene unbuttoned his fly with fingers that trembled slightly, the plastic fastening refusing to open at first causing Gene to swear softly under his breath and wrench at the offending article until it released. Unzipping his trousers, the sound seeming incredibly loud in the small room, Gene lowered them, realising too late that he still had shoes and socks on. He hopped about, one hand on his sock, trousers around his ankles while Sam looked on, the lust in his eyes changing to mirth as he laughed at Gene's idea of a striptease.

"It's a good job I know you're a better lover than a stripper," Sam teased, eyes twinkling in the low light.

Having finally won the battle with his clothing Gene didn't bother to reply to Sam's mockery, instead he leaned over his DI and slid his cords off like he was unwrapping the best Christmas present ever, each inch of revealed skin better than the last.

When he finally had Sam naked he manoeuvred his hands above his head, being careful of his broken arm, the belt still tight around his wrists as he ran a finger down the underside of the younger man's forearm, the action causing instant goosebumps to appear all over the taut skin.

Reaching under the bed, Gene pulled out a jar of Vaseline and unscrewed the top while never letting his gaze wander from Sam's. Kneeling between his lover's spread thighs, Gene pressed one final kiss to butter soft lips before working a slick finger into Sam's body, preparing him quickly and efficiently before sliding into grasping heat.

Sam gasped as Gene entered him, as much from the fact that they were face to face as from the pain. They had never done it like this before. Gene had always insisted on Sam being face down; he'd assumed so that Gene could pretend he was someone else, perhaps someone less male. He'd taken whatever Gene could give and accepted it but this was something he had never dreamed would happen. Gene moved slowly and with care, none of the urgent, animalistic coupling of the past, his hands stroked Sam's flesh as he worked his cock into his willing body, caressing, teasing, inciting moans and gasps and whimpers from parched lips as he thrust carefully. 

Looking up into a sea of green, Sam found himself lost in emerald depths a kiss dropped on his lips bending him double but all he felt was the joining of their bodies, not the scratchy linen or the cast or even the belt tied tightly around his wrists; just an explosion of pleasure and an ache deep in his belly that felt like love.

When the feeling got too much and Sam felt like he would burst, his body shattering into a million jagged pieces, Gene thrust hard and came, the heat almost too much to bear, starting a flash fire deep within Sam that signalled the beginning of the end. With a few strokes of his sweat slicked cock, Sam exploded with a shower of sparks, the world slowed to accommodate his orgasm and his vision treated him to a fireworks display, the colours dancing and blurring as he started to come down from the high.

Gene slumped over the satiated form of his lover, his breathing still erratic and his heart racing. Sam could feel the pulse jumping in Gene's throat as they lay together quietly, both contemplating what had just happened, each working out what it would cost them to keep the feeling.

After a suitable amount of time had passed, Sam started to wriggle uncomfortably, Gene's weight pressing on his chest and his wrists chaffing against the leather belt and the scratchy plaster of the cast.

"Guv?" Sam waited for an acknowledgement, continuing when Gene's 'Hmm?' signalled his consciousness. "Can you get off because I'd quite like to be able to breathe at some point in the future."

Gene looked hurt, a flash of pain flaring up in his eyes. "Are yer tryin' to say I'm fat?"

Sam felt a stab of worry that he'd hurt the older man until a lazy smile wormed its way on to Gene's face and Sam realised that he was only joking.

Moving reluctantly, Gene started to search for his cigarettes, paying no attention to Sam's disapproving glares and lighting up regardless, taking a deep drag and blowing the smoke into Sam's face.

Spluttering theatrically, Sam tried to wipe at his face but the movement was somewhat hampered by the belt still tied around his wrists, not to mention the cast that struck him in the head because he'd forgotten just how heavy it was.

Silence descended on the small flat until the phone rang. Both men looked at each other, worry lacing their features as they remembered the phone call that led to the events of the past few weeks. Not sure whether he should answer but finding his tied hands moving of their own accord, Gene leapt into action and swiftly released Sam's bindings, allowing the younger man to reach tentatively for the phone, his fingers trembling but his voice betraying none of the emotion Gene knew he felt as he spoke. "Tyler."

"Get to the station now."

Sam struggled to comprehend the words, his orgasm fuddled brain not running at the same speed as the rest of him.

"What? Ray? Is that you?"

"Please..." 

The pleading tone in Ray's voice before he hung up told Sam all he needed to know and he replaced the receiver in its cradle and turned to Gene, confusion and worry plainly visible on the Guv's face.

"We need to go to the station. Something's going on and I really don't like the sound of it."

Gene needed no further explanation and got dressed quickly, helping Sam to put on his clothing and bundling them both out of the door and into the cold night air.

Arriving at the station in a frankly impossibly short length of time, Sam and Gene bounded up the stairs and burst into CID like their lives depended on it. They looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary in the dark room until a chink of light from Gene's office alerted them to the situation that Ray had thought needed their attention so badly.

They opened the door slowly, warily and gasped as they took in the scene before them. Chris was sat in the Guv's chair, his face grey and tear tracks clearly visible on his cheeks. Ray was crouched in front of the desk, his back to the door, his attention solely focused on the man in the chair. Sam could sense the tension but didn't know exactly what the situation was until he took a step forward and saw the gun held in Chris' shaky fingers, the barrel pressed firmly to his temple.

Freezing in his position but risking a glance at the Guv, Sam saw that Gene had seen the gun and was as shocked as he was, the enormity of Chris' pain weighing heavily in the small office.

"I can't stay Ray, I just can't. S'not right and it never will be." Chris' voice was calm and Sam thought that was possibly the scariest thing about the whole situation.

Ray's shoulders shook and it was obvious even from behind that he was sobbing, great racking breaths were being forced from his lungs as he desperately fought to think of something to say that would make Chris put down the gun.

"Don't do it Chris, please don't leave me, I couldn't bear it," Ray pleaded, his hands raised in a parody of surrender as Chris' finger tightened on the trigger, the terror in his voice as mesmerising as the pain on the younger man's face.

A single tear clung to Chris' eyelashes, the sight drawing Sam's attention as much to take his eyes away from the gun as anything else. He watched the tear as it grew, its form shifting and changing, the surface tension of the water straining under the weight as it wobbled precariously on Chris' bottom lashes, so long for a man, before falling down his cheek and splashing onto the surface of Gene's desk with an impact that might as well have been deafening.

"Chris." Sam's voice came out of nowhere and Sam was as surprised as everyone else that he had actually spoken out loud.

Chris started as if he hadn't been aware that there was anybody else in the room, locked as he was in his own pain. 

He looked up then, eyes fixing onto Sam's, the gun trembling slightly against his temple but never leaving it's place pressed tightly against his head as he answered, "Boss?"

"Yeah, I'm here Chris. Why don't we just talk okay? Put the gun down and we'll talk about it... Please Chris." Sam tried not to let the pleading tone enter his voice but knew that he had failed as he heard his own voice as though from far away, and noted the wavering at the end.

Chris sighed and his shoulders slumped, his finger tightening and then releasing the trigger minutely as though he wasn't aware of the movement. Everyone else in the room couldn't look at anything else, their attention totally focused on that finger, the tension unbearable as the seconds passed.

"What could I say?" Chris answered, his eyes now dry and flat, the illusion of life that the sparkle of unshed tears had created gone.

"Tell me how you're feeling. I might understand, I was there too." Sam said, flashing a quick look at Gene, noticing the set of the Guv's shoulders and the way he seemed to be barely breathing as he stood rooted to the spot, uncertain in his own office, willing to let Sam do the talking.

Chris laughed, dry and hollow, the sound reverberating horribly around the room, falling like glass onto the concrete floor "You understand? Really? Ray dun't, do yer?" 

All the attention in the room suddenly shifted and focused on Ray kneeling on the hard floor, Sam could see his jaw working as though he were chewing gum but no sound emerged for what seemed like an age until he stammered, "I, I, tell me what you want me to say. Chris, I don't know what to do."

"How could yer?" Chris replied, voice softening slightly as he took in Ray's shivering form.

The silence filled the space, expanding like builder's foam until it had consumed everything in its path. 

"Chris I'm sorry that this happened to you but please don't allow him to win by pulling that trigger. You have people that love you." Sam glanced across to Ray aware that Chris followed the movement of his eyes. "It will get easier to deal with, I promise. It wasn't your fault and it was nothing you did or didn't do. You need to talk to people Chris, don't shut everyone out." 

"I should 'ave tried to stop him... I shouldn't 'ave just taken it... I could 'ave fought..." Chris murmured almost to himself, the gun slipping on his temple, the red mark it left appeared livid against his pale skin.

"Chris, listen to me." Sam paused until Chris' eyes met his own. "There was nothing you could do, he had a weapon and he was more than willing to use it. You did exactly the right thing and you lived. You have to hold on to that. Please believe me." 

Sam took a step forward slowly, watching Chris' face for any signs that his advance was going to push the younger man over the edge.

"'E didn't... do it to yer though did 'e?" Chris shouted, the anger contorting his face and the hand not holding the gun flexing and contracting to a fist until the skin was white.

"Only because he didn't have time!" Sam shouted back and realised that it was true, he felt a shudder of relief pass through him and was more thankful to Gene than he'd ever been about anything. "He just didn't have time Chris, it was nothing I did." Sam's voice softened and he took another step towards Chris.

Suddenly and without warning, Chris took the gun away from his head and placed it on the desk. Gene darted forwards quicker than Sam had ever seen him move and snatched up the weapon, emptying the bullets and holding it behind his back as though Chris might try to grab it at any moment. A sob bubbled up from Chris' throat and he cried, his body convulsing and the guttural sounds getting louder as he let himself go. Ray just stared, seemingly fixed to the floor until Sam kicked at him; the connection of the foot to his body spurred Ray into action and he got up and ran round the desk, scooping Chris up in strong arms and stroking his hair as he cried, murmuring endearments that were too low for Gene and Sam to hear.

While the two men were concentrating on each other, Sam and Gene backed out of the office, leaving their colleagues to their grief and feeling the exhaustion of adrenaline leaving the system. 

Walking to the darkened canteen, they sat in hard, plastic chairs, the horror of what could so easily have been, filling both their heads as they let the silence surround them.

"Who is Campbell, Gene?" Sam said so softly he thought maybe the Guv wouldn't hear him.

Without looking in Sam's direction, Gene started talking, his voice low and even and the words measured. "I were at school wi' 'im..."

If Gene heard Sam's sharp intake of breath he didn't acknowledge it.

"...I didn't know 'e 'ad a brother." Gene glanced at Sam as if needing the confirmation that the younger man believed him before continuing. "When we were kids, I used to tease 'im. 'E always cried, I called 'im a mummy's boy an' gave 'im a bit of a kickin' every now an' again. It was just what yer did at school, 'e should 'ave just dealt wi' it like everyone else 'ad to." 

Sam felt his stomach twist, he could imagine a young Gene giving Campbell a kicking, could imagine the rage building over the years, knew that Gene really had no concept of the way bullying could warp someone's mind. A wave of contradictory emotions coursed through him, sadness, anger, resignation but the predominant emotion was sheer hurt that Gene hadn't told him about this earlier.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam said, taking infinite care to hold his voice neutral.

Gene paused, his eyes told Sam he was reluctant to answer the question but he continued never-the-less. "I were ashamed."

Sam looked up sharply, the Guv's face telling him that his words were true. Looking into Gene's green eyes Sam felt his heart contract tightly in his chest, the pain taking his breath away for a moment until he had to turn away. 

Gene slid his hand across the sticky table and rubbed his thumb over the back of Sam's hand, carefully like he might bolt from the slightest touch.

"Sorry," Gene whispered, his eyes locking with Sam's and the uncharacteristically demure act contradicting with his persona, the result a clanging discord in Sam's head.

"You were a kid Gene. What you did was nasty and unfair but it doesn't mean he had a right to do what he did." Sam looked back up, his speech gaining momentum. "It was a lifetime ago but what isn't so easy for me to forget is that you lied to me. I asked you if you knew Campbell and you said no."

Gene opened his mouth to interrupt but Sam's raised palm stopped him in his tracks.

"And if you're going to say that you didn't say anything, then that's the same thing and you know it. I don't like being lied to Gene." Sam's frustration with his boss was evident in his voice, Gene's stroking of his hand increased as his lover got more worked up. "You could have just told me that's what I don't understand." Sam shook his head as if to demonstrate his incomprehension of the situation. "If you could lie to me about this then what else have you lied about?"

Sam's mind went back to his flat a couple of hours ago and to Gene's heartfelt confirmation that he returned Sam's feelings. He scraped his chair back and got up from the table hastily, pulling his hand away from Gene's and stalking out of the room, leaving the forlorn figure sitting alone in the empty, dark canteen.

As Sam wandered the halls of the empty building, his footsteps echoing loudly off the depressing, concrete walls he thought about his life. He knew he would forgive Gene eventually, probably after some heavy duty grovelling and a fist fight, but he felt uneasy with the way things had turned out. The ground seemed to have shifted and cracked and he wasn't entirely sure what he was standing on was real any more: if it ever had been. The only thing he could rely on was the way he felt about a certain gruff, Neanderthal DCI - everything else was just secrets and lies and the not-so glaringly obvious.


End file.
